In the days that followed, Nick and Marcia regularly visited Greenland Villa to show their affection and concern for John. Their behavior became increasingly attentive—almost servile—which left Queenie utterly bewildered.
She was convinced her parents had fallen under John's spell.
And she wasn't the only one.
Tracy and Alice had also noticed the odd change. More than once, they'd witnessed Marcia cheerfully massaging John's shoulders or legs, her demeanor more like a housemaid than the proud woman they knew.
How had John managed to tame such an iron-willed woman?
No one knew.
John, true to form, kept quiet. He never joked about patients' conditions, and Nick and Marcia refused to reveal anything.
Eventually, the sisters gave up trying to figure it out. They just chalked it up to one more mystery surrounding the enigmatic John.
With the domestic strangeness pushed to the background, Queenie turned her attention to the future. She dove back into work, fully focused on launching the Queenie Group's new branch company. Everything seemed to be falling into place.
But just a few days before the official launch, something disturbing happened.
Queenie rushed to find John, her expression grave. "Something's wrong with Yelena," she said.
Yelena, a key figure in the company's R&D department, had always been punctual and diligent. But today, she neither showed up to work nor requested leave. Her phone had been turned off all day.
Worried, Queenie had gone to Yelena's apartment herself—but found no sign of her.
According to the building's security guard, Yelena had left the complex early that morning.
"She only lives ten minutes from the company," Queenie said, voice trembling. "She left the building, but she never made it to the office. I've already reported it to the police, but they won't file a case until 24 hours have passed. They told me to wait."
She paused, then looked John in the eye. "But I have a bad feeling… What if it's related to the facial mask formula?"
John's expression darkened. "It's very possible."
The formula for BEAUTY was revolutionary. Once it hit the market, it would disrupt the entire skincare industry. Countless competitors stood to lose billions. And desperate people did desperate things.
Seeing the worry in Queenie's eyes, John offered reassurance. "If they're after the formula, they'll keep Yelena alive—for now."
Queenie nodded faintly. "I just hope she's okay. If they want the formula, they can have it. Nothing is more important than her life."
John gently patted her shoulder, then turned to Tracy and Alice. "Stay with Queenie. I'll take it from here."
Without wasting another second, he stepped outside and dialed a secure line to a covert intelligence agency.
"Activate the Skynet system," he ordered. "Track this person's recent movements—name: Yelena, R&D engineer at Queenie Group."
Within minutes, the reply came through.
"King, surveillance shows that Miss Yelena was abducted around 7:40 AM this morning near North Road in the Titan District. She was forced into an unlicensed white minibus. The last known location of the vehicle was the eastern suburbs of New York."
"Copy that."
Without delay, John mounted his customized large-diameter-wheel bike and shot off like a silver bolt of lightning.
As he sped toward the eastern suburbs, his sharp eyes scanned the terrain. He activated his Lucifer's Eyes, enhancing his vision and analysis to pinpoint possible hideouts.
Before long, his attention locked onto a run-down warehouse, half-buried in weeds. Several rough-looking men stood outside, smoking.
John coasted to a silent stop on the roof of the warehouse, landing so lightly that not even the dust stirred beneath his tires.
Through a crack in the deteriorating ceiling, he saw her.
Yelena.
Tied to a chair. Bruised. Bloodied—but defiant.
Inside, a man in glasses was interrogating her, laptop open as he worked on deciphering the stolen formula.
When his data didn't match expectations, he signaled to a burly, bald man beside him.
The bald thug strode forward and slapped Yelena hard. "This is your last chance," he barked. "Give us the formula, or my boys outside will tear you apart. Understand?"
Yelena spat blood in his face. "Go to hell."
Rage flared in the man's eyes. He raised his hand to strike again—but at that exact moment, a deafening crack split the air.
A massive hole exploded through the warehouse roof like lightning had struck it.
Before anyone could react, a figure descended from above like an avenging angel.
BAM!
John's foot connected with the bald man's head, dropping him instantly.
"Who the hell are you?!" the man with glasses stammered, panic overtaking him.
In a last-ditch effort, he dropped his laptop and pulled a jagged seven-hole knife, lunging to use Yelena as a hostage.
But John was faster.
Before the man could even blink, John blurred forward and smashed a fist into his face. The knife clattered harmlessly to the floor.
Outside, the guards heard the chaos and rushed in.
They froze when they saw the scene inside:
Their leaders unconscious. A stranger standing like a demon in the middle of the warehouse. And Yelena, bloodied but alive, staring at her rescuer with teary relief.